Only a trickle makes its way down the mountainside

Hidden from view for the most part

With truth on trickle feed
As it makes its way into the relative world
That which the public eye's can see
Somewhere the sun keeps shining
But beyond the rift nobody is permitted to know
Its hail and snow as far as the official story goes
For that is the only way
High in the mountains the source has been dammed
So only the slightest makes it past
Nobody bold enough to climb and question
That cliff appears unclimbable
The source unreachable
That is what is appears
But it is relative
When the truth is so closer to the pool
Than it is made to appear ...
--Matthew James --